


salvation

by stephenssupreme



Category: Apostle (2018), Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (BBC), Dracula (TV 2020), Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: M/M, Michael Sheen - Freeform, it just be like that, look i am gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22108387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephenssupreme/pseuds/stephenssupreme
Summary: Prophet Malcolm Howe swore to look after his island but after a mass evacuation, he finds only him and one other man are left. Though, it's not who he first assumed.
Relationships: Count Dracula/Prophet Malcolm
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	salvation

**Author's Note:**

> the character in this fic is prophet malcolm from the 2018 movie apostle - if you haven't watched it, that's alright
> 
> the premise that you need to know is that he performed blood sacrifice for a creature he thought of as a goddess. shit went down and everyone left the island leaving him and only one other man left alive

The truth was, Malcolm didn't quite know how he found himself in this new home. It was large and lavish yet… So cold at the very same time. All he did know was that he was no longer on his Island of salvation, that was for sure. This new abode appeared ancient and partly untouched for what seemed like decades. He was led in bed… Yes, lying in a bed with a thin cotton sheet covered over his body. Whoever got him here obviously had some compassion. Though… That being said, the pillow must have been tremendously uncomfortable because his neck was  _ killing _ him.

How long had he been asleep for?

Hours? Days? Weeks? He wasn't to know.

Rolling over onto his side, the aching man saw an empty chair on the other side of the room, purposely facing the bed, a book resting on the desk nearby. The only light he had was the dim flicker of an almost burnt out candle. Either he wasn't alone or they were expecting him to wake up eventually.

"It's a dream," he muttered to himself, believing that after the events of his goddesses death, dehydration and starvation had gotten the better of him. Nonetheless, he sat up and observed the space around him, wanting to amuse himself in whatever lucid dream he was experiencing - a nightmare perhaps? Nightmares were always fabled to be dark and mysterious, after all.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he realised he was still fully clothed, his boots hitting the ground quicker than he was expecting causing a loud thud to echo against the stone walls.  _ Shit _ … He needed to keep quiet. At least, that's what he assumed to be the case. Standing up came to be much harder than the man anticipated, stumbling forward a few paces to steady himself against the corner of the wooden desk, his vision flashing to black for a moment before he was able to see again. The curtains were drawn shut so one would assume it was the depths of night, yet by looking at just where the two pieces of fabric met, Malcolm could see a glint of sunlight. A human's curiosity cannot be rivaled so of course, when you see a window, you must look through it, correct? Reaching for where the curtains met, Malcolm went to pull them open when suddenly, he heard a voice on the other side of the room. 

"Ah, ah! I wouldn't do that just yet, it's rather dreadful out there actually."

Turning back to look at the chair, he found that it was no longer empty - now occupied by a man who looked a similar age to himself, actually. How had he not heard him come in? Had he been there all along? Continuing to grip onto the desk, Malcolm opened his mouth to speak but never got a chance to as the stranger spoke once more.

"I was wondering when you would wake up. I was beginning to doubt your strength, dear Malcolm. Tell me, you don't feel  _ too _ drained after your long journey, do you?"

"How do you know my name?!" Not quite keen on the fact that he was interrupted and considering he didn't tell this man his name, Malcolm grew more feisty by the second, growing taller in his posture, finally letting go of the desk to stand stronger. His confidence was short lived though for the other man sprung from his chair, his hand landing on Malcolm's tense shoulder. His nails dug into the fabric of his jacket and only now did the prophet actually notice how old his captor's hands looked - specifically his nails which looked more like claws.

"Calm yourself… You told me, remember? On the Island… You told me your name and all about your antics with that  _ woman _ ." His grasp loosened slightly, his hand slipping down Malcolm's arm, all the way down to his hand. "Shall I remind you?" Grabbing his sleeve with his other hand, the dark stranger yanked it up, exposing Malcolm's heavily scarred forearm and suddenly… He remembered.

  
  


* * *

  
  


"Oh pity, I'm too late."

"Hm?" Malcolm didn't recognise the voice behind him but only turned around when he heard a thud. What he saw was a heavily cloaked man, kicking the dying body of Thomas Richardson which was being engulfed by the ground beneath him, gracing him to be the new protector of the Island. "Who are y--"

The stranger snarled, locking eyes with him in a crazed frenzy, the whites of his eyes a deep, bloodshot red. "You're bleeding--" It looked as though he couldn't resist as the man rushed forward, latching onto Malcolm, his mouth agape. "Wait…" He sniffed the air, his eyes quickly shifting to a more inquisitive state. "You've experienced my kin before… You  _ gifted _ yourself to her… Oh you sweet, loyal dog."

"Who…  _ Are you _ ?" Malcolm finally managed to hiss out through chattering teeth, trying not to look his accuser in the eye.

"Apologies! I was about to dine with you and I haven't even introduced myself. I'm  _ Count Dracula _ . A vampire. But… You know that, don't you… Malcolm." It was as if time slowed down and all fear left him. Dracula felt familiar to Malcolm and as much as that should have scared him, it weirdly relaxed the poor man. He gave a small nod and did not flinch as the vampire inched closer, his tongue running across his cheek, lapping up the drying blood that was stained against his skin from the battle prior. "Tell me who you are Malcolm… Maybe I'll let you last if I know you're worth the wait? You don't mind if I snack a little while you spin your yarn, do you?" A small shake of Malcolm's head gave his consent.

And so, as Dracula cleaned his wounds, Malcolm told the tale of how they found the Goddess when they arrived at the island and how they used her hunger to generate fertility on the island. This angered Dracula, how dare they use her power for their own good! Sharp teeth sunk into Malcolm's neck but yet, they didn't rip away the flesh: they stayed there and let the blood seep slowly into Dracula's greedy mouth. He let him  _ live _ .

His breath was slow and slightly wheezy, but Malcolm continued his story and explained that if he could do so again, he would have gone about his offerings differently - he would have served her loyally and without chains. Lifting his sleeves, he showed Dracula how he fed her - how he drew his own blood as an offering.

With all the feeding Dracula had been doing, Malcolm's legs began to give way, the cursed vampire pulling back to then press his palm tightly against his victim's neck, stopping the bleed from escalating too fast. "You, my good man, could make quite the experiment. Come with me," pleaded the vampire, blood pouring down his chin as he spoke. It wasn't as if Malcolm had a choice though because that's where his memory ended - it was at that point he lost consciousness.

* * *

  
  


"Dracula… I always thought you were a myth." Malcolm found himself sat on the bed again, though this time the Count was right beside him, his hand resting on his knee. He squeezed slightly, a cunning smirk on his lips.

"Do I look like a myth to you now?"

"I suppose not. I must ask though… Why keep me alive? I have nothing to my name and I… I was ready to die on my island-- wait! Why were you even there?"

Oh how that made Dracula chuckle. "I always choose the ones with too many questions, don't I? Oh well, so be it." Putting a hand on Malcolm's chest, he gently pushed him to lie down, knowing he would pass out once again pretty soon. "Firstly: I'm keeping you alive for my own sake, don't get confused about that. Someone of your… Experience is so flavoursome, you see. Secondly: that willingness to die? Think of it like salt - a little added substance to one's feast. Thirdly: I flew over to see things for myself. I had rumours about the woman you so worshiped and I wanted to see her for myself. Unfortunately I slept in a little though and arrived too late. Oh! By the way, by flying I meant via bats." Through horrific spiked teeth, Dracula grinned at his own tale, glancing down to catch the prophet's reaction but he was greeted with a sleeping face, head lulled to the side.

"For crying out loud! I'm not  _ that  _ boring!" With a sigh, the vampire stood up, shaking his head. "Fucking mortals…" Pointing a finger at his sleeping guest, he simply muttered to himself: "I'll be back for you later."

**Author's Note:**

> watch two people read this


End file.
